


Symposium

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Harry, Brat Harry Styles, Caretaking, Drinking, Feminine Harry, Insecurity, Jealousy, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Met Gala 2019, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Other, Platonic Kissing, Polyamory, Public Display of Affection, Rimming, Shower Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 22:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18926005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: Harry does his best to enjoy the Met Gala after-after party. And the party after that.





	Symposium

**Author's Note:**

> Irt the dubious consent tag: all parties involved are very familiar with each other and know what to expect/what their limits are when it comes to sex. These are situations in which consent is implied rather than explicitly established, however, so it might not be your cup of tea! 
> 
> I plan to write at least one more fic set the week of the Met Gala, but may end up writing more, honestly. There was a lot of material to use as inspiration.
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

The past forty-eight hours had been little more than a blur for Harry, who had spent the majority of the lead up to the gala on the verge of a panic attack and could barely remember the trip from one side of the country to the other, let alone the minutiae of being deposited at various venues to perform social functions that he usually spent the better part of his daily life avoiding like the plague.

Now he was crammed into the back of a rental car on his way to the after-after party he was meant to be hosting—but would almost certainly be late for—with four other people crammed into the vehicle despite there being an insufficient quantity of seats to accommodate the lot of them.

Jeff was sat up front with their driver, but Kendall, Alexa, and Glenne had all squished into the back. Harry, for lack of an available place to sit, had chosen to perch himself on Alexa’s lap, her arms encircling his waist in lieu of a proper seatbelt.

Harry felt only half-conscious in Alexa’s warm embrace, the flutter of her breath against his exposed neck lulling him into a sense of relaxation so deep he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to make his limbs work when they finally reached the venue.

Jeff was turned around in his seat, talking to them from over his shoulder. Harry could hear him, but his brain had turned to soup. “Ben’s going to meet us there,” he said, staring directly at Harry who looked back at Jeff as if he’d been speaking another language entirely.

It wasn’t Harry had been dragged out of the car and practically carried inside that Jeff’s words finally registered. Ben was stood in one corner of the room (talking to Cara, judging from what Harry could see of her hair) and his body reacted of its own accord.

“What are you doing?” Jeff asked exasperatedly as Harry suddenly flung himself forward, swinging from Jeff and Glenne’s arms like a kid whose attention had just been caught by a roller coaster he wanted to ride just up ahead.

Harry blinked rapidly and made an attempt to compose himself. It wouldn’t do for the guests (most of which had been unexpected attendees) to witness their host crawling all over a man more than ten years older. But it was difficult enough to keep from scaling Ben like a climbing frame when Harry was sober; it was nearly impossible drunk.

Jeff seemed to sense Harry’s intentions a few seconds later. “You’re supposed to be mingling,” he reminded him. “You’re hosting the damn thing, remember?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay,” he said, still blinking his way slowly into a more advanced consciousness.

Alexa took a good long look at him and sighed. “Let me handle him, yeah?” she suggested. Jeff and Glenne handed custody over without protest.

Somehow, they made it from one end of the hall to the centre of the dancefloor without Harry being aware of any of it, but once he got there, he found Cara stood in front of him with her arms extended to pull him in. Harry allowed himself to be led by Cara and Alexa both until all three were moving in some semblance of a dance to the beat of the music playing over the sound system.

“Who’s DJing?” Harry wondered loudly.

He could just make out the roll of Cara’s eyes as she answered. “No one who’d be pleased to let you hang off him all night,” she told him. “Just keep dancing, babe.”

So Harry did. He danced until every part of his body ached, until he wasn’t sure which of the limbs flailing past his face were his and which belonged to his friends until he nearly collapsed into Alexa’s arms at the end of one of the songs, their positions now reversed so Cara was at Harry’s back instead.

Harry wasn’t sure what had compelled Harry to lean forward, but before he’d realised what he was doing, his lips were on hers in a clumsy, drunken approximation of a kiss as the strobe lights above them flashed and pulsed erratically. Harry pulled away abruptly in horror at what he’d just done. It was far from the first time he and Alexa had engaged in a drunken snog, but there were strangers at this party, and phones, and Harry didn’t need to add any additional fuel to the rumour mill.

“Sorry,” Harry told her, trying to convey with his eyes what he really meant by it.

Alexa smiled at him, her lipstick smudged at the corners. Harry swiped at his own face just in case. “It’s fine,” she replied.

“What if someone—”

Harry was interrupted by Cara tugging him against her chest again. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Alexa jerked her head to the side. “Loo,” she answered meaningfully.

Harry suddenly found himself being ushered away from the dancefloor and into an outer corridor where the additional facilities could be accessed. His head was spinning as Alexa and Cara frogmarched him into the women’s toilet. Cara let go as soon as they entered and turned to lock the door.

“What’s wrong?” Cara asked again.

“A bit of a panic, that’s all—right, love?” Alexa turned to address the last bit toward Harry, who nodded as she guided him toward the sinks. “Hold still,” she told him before reaching past to grab a roll of towel and wetting it under the faucet. Apparently, Harry hadn’t done such a good job of removing her lipstick from his face after all.

“You’re sure no one saw us?” Harry wondered as Alexa mopped at his mouth with the corner of the towel.

“I suppose we won’t know for sure till tomorrow,” Alexa replied. “Would it be the end of the world if they did?”

Harry wasn’t sure of the answer to that. On the one hand, it wouldn’t be much of a deviation from the norm. Harry was used to having his face plastered against photos of his friends in the press purely to generate ad revenue from a fanfiction machine guising itself as legitimate journalism. On the other…the thought of having a kiss with Alexa paraded about in the tabloids as some proof that he was something he wasn’t—it made him a bit ill to even consider.

He loved Alexa. Truly. He just didn’t want that love to be weaponised against him. Especially not today.

Alexa seemed to have given up on looking for an answer, thankfully. She pulled the towel away from Harry’s face, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the bin Cara was leaning against. “There,” she said. “Feeling better now?”

Harry nodded, which was apparently good enough for both Alexa and Cara, who gently guided him out of the toilets and back into the main room, where the party was still in full swing. But this time, instead of leading him onto the dancefloor again, they steered him into the furthest corner of the room. Harry spotted Jeff and Ben sat on adjacent sofas from a few yards away and tugged his hand out of Alexa’s grasp so he could sprint over to them.

Harry ended up sat cosily next to Jeff while he conversed with Ben and Kendall and Glenne, not participating much in the conversation himself but instead making doe eyes at Ben the whole time. The only saving grace was that Ben didn’t seem to notice, which was also a sore point for Harry, who hated being ignored.

Harry’s first attempt at getting Ben’s attention was a game of footsie, which went about as well as he’d expected.

“Stop kicking me, H,” Ben scolded as he reached down to still the wayward limb. “You’re not a child.”

With that scheme having failed, Harry switched to his back-up plan: making a spectacle of himself by attacking Jeff.

Bouts of wrestling had become the norm for them. Jeff had failed to convince Harry that it was unbecoming of him to attack his manager and eventually grew to accept the inevitability that given half the chance, Harry would end up on top of him somehow.

This occasion was no different. Harry immediately rolled Jeff onto his back and straddled the upper part of his chest, his knees next to Jeff’s ears. Their hands were intertwined above Jeff’s head, and in any other context, it would have looked erotic. Maybe it still did.

Harry glanced up in a futile effort to meet Ben’s eyes, to perhaps give him a sultry stare that would finally communicate what drunken words couldn’t. But Ben had his head down, his phone in his hands, a focussed expression that was completely at odds with the laughter etched on Kendall and Glenne’s faces as they watched Harry’s antics continue.

Someone snapped a few photos at one point, and then eventually Jeff yielded, forcing Harry to return to a seated position on the sofa next to him once more. It didn’t take him much longer to concoct and implement yet another fool-proof tactic for gaining Ben’s attention.

“I need to wee,” Harry hissed into Ben’s ear as he leaned over to tug at his suit jacket. It was perhaps said a bit too loudly, as even Glenne glanced over at him in confusion after the words came out of his mouth.

Ben just lifted an eyebrow before hauling himself out of his seat, grabbing Harry by the elbow and pulling him along with him. “You couldn’t find the toilets yourself?” he asked as they exited through the doorway into the corridor, where a curtain of silence descended so abruptly that for a moment Harry’s freshly drunken mind thought he’d gone deaf.

“I need help,” Harry supplied unhelpfully. He leaned into Ben, nearly sending both of them crashing into the wall before Ben managed to right him again.

“Help with what?”

They stumbled into the toilets before Harry could eke out an answer, which emerged in the form of a muffled whimper against Ben’s neck as they went skidding across the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Ben hissed as he kept Harry from going arse over teakettle again. “How much did you drink?”

“I have to wee,” Harry insisted again.

“What do you need me for?” Ben asked.

Harry wriggled in his hold and plucked at the hem of his trousers. “Need help,” he repeated.

Ben sighed loudly and shoved Harry far enough away that he could get at the fastenings on Harry’s clothes, which were far too complex to be dealt with on his own even in a more sober state. Harry supposed he must have looked comical staring up at Ben with his blouse rucked up around his armpits and his trousers down at his knees, but he didn’t much care. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Then Ben shoved him into one of the cubicles and promptly shut the door. “Try to be quick about it,” Ben advised from the other side.

Harry collapsed onto the toilet seat without replying and heaved his own sigh of resignation into his hands. Perversely, he wished the door were still open so that Ben would have to watch him, even though on some level he was still capable of understanding that there was nothing remotely appealing about someone watching him piss sat down with his clothes still half-on.

It took longer than it should have, but eventually Harry finished up and emerged from the cubicle with his undone trousers clutched in hand, his eyes wide in supplication as he approached Ben again for help. This time, Harry made it harder for him on purpose by wriggling about, which was something Ben endured long-sufferingly but without comment.

It wasn’t until Harry made for the door without Ben’s help that he finally deigned to open his mouth again. “You haven’t washed your hands,” Ben pointed out.

Harry answered with barely more than a sigh before trudging over to the sink. He nearly fell on his arse in the process and was only just saved by Ben swooping in yet again to catch him.

“I swear you must be this clumsy on purpose,” Ben muttered in Harry’s ear as his arms looped around him to reach for the faucets. “Such an attention whore.”

Harry shivered at the words, and the hot flush of Ben’s breath against his neck. Abstractly, he admired the heft of Ben’s hands as they covered his own underneath the water. “Your nails are pretty,” he commented in a dreamy voice.

“Well, I would hope so,” Ben replied. “You did paint them.”

“I know,” Harry told him matter-of-factly.

Ben made a face in the mirror before shutting off the faucet and moving away to grab a towel to dry off with. Once Harry was taken care of, he steered them both out of the toilets and back to the corner of the party they’d been holed up in before. He pushed Harry down onto the sofa next to Jeff again and then resumed his former seat at Kendall’s side, staunchly ignoring the pout Harry gave him in response.

Harry had been running on fumes since they’d arrived, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he ended up literally napping on Jeff before being woken up a little while later to be informed that the party was finally starting to wind down.

“Do you want to go to the house with us?” Jeff asked Harry, the words just barely managing to cut through the sleep-haze still fogging his brain. “I can have someone take you back to your apartment if you aren’t feeling up for it.”

Harry shook his head violently—and then regretted it. “No,” he replied, gritting his teeth against the ugly pang of nausea that had suddenly ripped through him. “Ben.”

Jeff stared back at Harry in confusion. “What?” he asked. “Ben’s coming with the rest of us. To the house.”

Harry nodded. “I want to come to the house,” he said firmly.

Jeff still looked dubious about allowing him to come along, but it was Harry’s party, if only partially—the house itself had been Jeff’s idea, since it would allow them a bit more privacy than trying to bring back a load of people to Harry’s flat in Tribeca.

Harry waited until Ben stood up to pounce on him; Glenne stopped him mid-leap with a warning expression.

“There are cameras outside,” Jeff reminded Harry as Glenne began grooming him into a state of presentability once more.

Harry nodded and stared forlornly after Ben’s back as he exited ahead of them. When Harry walked through the outer doors, it was with his hands clasped behind his back so he wouldn’t be caught drunkenly fidgeting as he made the long walk from the doors to the car waiting for them on the kerb.

Harry was surprised, actually, when he climbed into the backseat to find Ben already sat on one side of the bench. He’d heard what Jeff had said about Ben coming with them, but his mind hadn’t processed it until just now that he’d seen the proof of it for himself.

“What?” Ben questioned as Harry buckled himself in. Apparently, he must have seen something in Harry’s expression when their eyes met.

Harry lifted his gaze with a sceptical look on his face. “Just surprised,” he replied. “Didn’t think you were planning to come with us to the last party.” He paused, trying to find a way to make the next bit sound less bitter than it was. “You didn’t come to the first one.”

Ben chose to ignore that part. “Just because I’m married with a kid doesn’t mean I can’t have fun every once in a while.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” It wasn’t like Ben had engaged in much of anything that could be considered fun (at least not with Harry) for most of the past three years.

“Oh, don’t pout.” Ben rolled his eyes. “We’ve both been busy lately. It’s not as easy as it used to be.”

Fun had apparently taken on a new meaning then, because it was clear to Harry now that Ben was no longer talking about parties.

Harry slumped back against his seat with a sigh. He eyed their driver carefully, trying to assess just how much he could get away with without attracting the man’s attention. “I suppose we should make the most of our time together this week,” Harry replied in a measured tone.

“I suppose we should,” Ben agreed easily. He slid a hand across the bench and laid it carefully against Harry’s thigh, his fingers curling perilously close to Harry’s groin as he settled it against his trousers. “You know, it’s funny,” he remarked offhandedly, as though oblivious to the way Harry’s pulse was racing now. “Usually, you’d be hanging all over that Xander kid, not me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Xander was only younger than Ben by a couple years, but Ben had consistently acted like they were at least a decade apart since the very first time they’d met. “He had a work trip,” Harry replied with a bit of a scowl. He would have liked to have Xander there as well, but even he couldn’t always get what he wanted. “There wasn’t any way to reschedule, so.”

“I suppose you’re lucky I’m all right with playing second fiddle,” Ben joked with a wink.

Harry scoffed, but made no attempt to correct his assumption. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, and they both knew it. But right now, that didn’t matter. Harry turned away from Ben to stare out the window instead at the passing city blocks, impatiently tapping against the doorframe as they made the slow crawl through the traffic of people’s morning commute.

They weren’t getting anywhere fast, though, so Harry eventually laid his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes, peripherally aware of the heat of Ben’s hand soaking into his skin through his clothes like a hot brand, letting fantasies of what was to come once they arrived at the party ease him into a state of dreamy relaxation.

In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that he’d fallen asleep again, but when Harry woke up in a darkened room, in a strange bed, alone, he was disoriented and panicked for nearly a minute before realising what must have happened.

Jeff and Ben had probably tucked him into bed once they arrived at the house, Harry told himself as he sat up, the sheets falling down around him to reveal that they hadn’t attempted to change him out of his clothes. Harry was actually a little disappointed by that.

It was hard to say how long he’d been asleep since the windows had all been blacked out in preparation for the after-after-after party they’d planned, but for now the house was silent and still. There was no trace of the festivities Harry had been expecting to be found. He was a little annoyed at having missed them, but then the reason he must have woken up became violently apparent, and Harry was suddenly in too much pain to feel much of anything else.

Harry ripped the blankets off of himself and sprinted out into the hallway with his palm pressed lightly against his ear, trying to mitigate the way the heavy piercing threatened to bounce as he made his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He only flipped on one of the lights when he entered, leaving the room dimly lit, enough to make out his reflection in the mirror. He looked like shit, and his ear was plainly swollen, but Harry was sceptical of his own ability to change it as quickly as his stylist had done for him earlier. He’d wait, he decided. Better not to risk it. He wasn’t sure where his personal belongings even were, anyway.

For lack of being able to address the reason he was awake in the first place, Harry decided to take a shower, hoping that doing something about the grime he could feel coating his skin like an oily film would help in some small capacity. And at the very least, it might help him sober up a bit.

Harry ended up under the warm spray with his forehead pressed against the tiles, too worn out to do anything but stand there. It didn’t help that every time he’d lifted his arms to wash his hair, it had made him so dizzy he’d worried he might vomit. Now he was clean enough, but he didn’t feel like getting out of the shower just yet.

Harry wasn’t sure just how long he’d been stood there when he heard the bathroom door open again. He ignored the sound, waiting for whoever it was to either do their business with him there or to turn around and leave now that they’d realised the bathroom was already occupied. Instead, he heard the shower door open behind him, his mind vaguely registering the fact without really prompting him to react in any way.

There was no way for Harry to tell who had gotten in with him without turning around, but part of Harry didn’t even want to know who it was. Their identity really didn’t matter, honestly. He’d been naked with everyone staying in the house more times than he could count and had fucked them all at least once. It wasn’t like this was new territory for any of them.

It wasn’t until the person behind him knelt down and brushed their beard against the lower curve of Harry’s arse that he realised it definitely wasn’t Cara or one of the girls. Probably not Jeff either, since he’d shaved the day before. That left only a couple candidates, but Harry wasn’t terribly fussed about the answer, even less so when they spread him open to lick him out, his mind so overwhelmed by the pleasure that his brain shorted out within seconds. He didn’t have the capacity to try to figure out just who the culprit could be, and he didn’t much care.

Harry panted heavily with his head still pressed against the wall of the shower, his hands flat on either side of his face in some futile effort at maintaining his balance. Harry was almost certain he would have collapsed if it weren’t for the person whose face was buried inside him keeping him upright with big, strong hands surrounding his narrow hips.

Harry hadn’t had a good wank in days, so it was little surprise when he came without much stimulation to his cock at all, barely more than a hand passing over it before he was clenching down hard against the tongue in his arse, his hands scrabbling uselessly against the tile. His eyes finally shot open just in time to watch as his come swirled down the drain. He frowned when a small drop of scarlet followed it. And then another. And another.

He was bleeding, Harry suddenly realised. His ear was bleeding.

Under other circumstances, Harry would have liked to think that it would take slightly more than that to have him bursting into tears, but things being such as they were—

“H?” Ben said from behind him, his voice clearly alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Harry managed to spin around and flop into Ben’s arms with his hand pressed to his ear. He pulled away his palm just long enough to show Ben the evidence before clutching at the throbbing wound again.

Ben sighed and squeezed him a little tighter in reassurance. “Hang on just a second, all right?”

Harry let out a little meep of protest when Ben abruptly pulled away and climbed out of the shower, but he had plenty of faith in the man. If Ben said he’d only be gone a second, then he would.

Technically, it was longer than that, but Ben returned quickly in just his damp joggers with Harry’s duffel in one hand and a first-aid box clutched in the other. He carefully set both things down on the countertop before reaching back into the shower to turn off the water and pull Harry out.

Harry stood stock-still as Ben wrapped him up in a towel like a child before setting him down on the counter itself. He watched as Ben rummaged through his things, finally procuring the case Harry was using for the earrings a few seconds later.

Ben met Harry’s eyes with a look of concern. “We could let it close up,” he suggested even though he already had the case in hand. “You could always get it redone later.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s fine,” he told Ben. “You’re not supposed to take them out even if they get infected, anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben asked as he started to rifle through the first-aid box, the earring case now sat out on the counter next to Harry’s hip. “Who told you that?”

“The internet.”

Ben huffed out a quiet laugh before turning toward Harry again, apparently ready now to proceed. “You want to grab onto my shoulders?” he suggested. “It’ll be easier if you don’t move around much.”

Harry nodded and did as he asked, using Ben’s shoulders for leverage as he reached up to free Harry’s earlobe of its heavy burden, the second of the night.

The tissue surrounding the piercing was swollen and inflamed, and it hurt before Ben had even done _anything_. Harry somehow managed to stay still, curling his hands into Ben’s shoulders like claws when the first piercing was removed and just as quickly replaced by the stud he’d put in when he first pierced the damn thing.

And Harry knew that was going to hurt worse than anything else, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how much. His vision went a bit blurry as all his senses honed in on the feeling of white hot pain in his ear lobe. It was amazing, really, that such a small wound could produce that much agony.

“You all right?” Ben asked once the piercing had been put back in.

Harry gave a weak nod. There were tears leaking out of his eyes again, but that wasn’t anything to worry about really. “How’s it look?” he asked.

Ben shrugged. “Should probably do something about the swelling,” he replied vaguely, but it was a carton of cotton balls that he procured from the first-aid box next.

Harry sat silently as Ben mopped up the fresh blood from the wound, the pain negligible now in comparison to what he’d just experienced. There was quite a bit of pus, too, that Harry could see when Ben pulled the soiled cotton away from his ear, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“All done,” Ben assured him, perhaps misinterpreting the grimace as one of pain. “Now we just….” He reached into the box again and pulled out a soft ice pack this time. Harry wondered if he’d prepared it beforehand when they got to the house, or if they’d just happened to have an ice pack ready to go in the freezer when Ben had gone to get the first-aid box. “Hold still,” Ben reminded him unnecessarily as he pressed the soft gel around Harry’s ear with an admirable level of delicacy.

Harry just stared at him while Ben held the ice pack to his wound, both of them gazing deeply into each other’s eyes from only centimetres away. “Kiss me,” Harry said after a few seconds.

Ben raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t wait the full five minutes till I was done?”

“I miss you,” Harry replied honestly.

“I’m stood right here, Harry.”

“I miss you when you’re gone,” Harry clarified.

Ben laughed lightly. “Why?” he asked. “It’s not like you’re starved for affection. I know you’ve got a harem of boys and girls scattered across the whole globe now.”

Harry had some who weren’t boys _or_ girls, too, but he didn’t feel like correcting Ben on that point just now. “I miss them when they’re gone, too,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

Ben shook his head with a sigh of exasperation, but there was nothing but fondness in his face. “How can such a tiny creature have so much love to give?” he mused.

Harry adopted a petulant frown. “You still haven’t kissed me,” he pointed out.

“No,” Ben conceded. “I haven’t.” He leaned in to do just that, softly pressing his lips to Harry’s and allowing him to take the lead. Harry didn’t have the energy to engage in much more than a few seconds of gentle kissing. “Better?” Ben asked.

Harry nodded and relaxed a little in Ben’s arms, aware still of the ice pack pressed against his ear even though most of the pain had faded into something manageable. “Take me to bed?” he breathed out, the words hardly more than a sigh voiced against Ben’s neck.

Ben murmured something in agreement and hefted Harry up into his arms, carrying him out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom he’d emerged from. Harry didn’t realise Ben had misunderstood the invitation until he was being tucked into the sheets again, at which point Harry sat up and grabbed at Ben so he couldn’t run away again.

“When I asked you to come to bed,” Harry said in a steady voice, though he was only just managing to keep from actually whining, “I meant that I wanted you to come inside me.”

“Ah,” Ben said flatly. “My mistake.” But he didn’t move to join Harry in bed.

“Ben,” Harry pleaded. It was time to throw any leftover dignity to the wayside.

“Harry,” Ben shot back in an exasperated tone. “You need to sleep,” he pointed out. “I already made you come in the shower.”

“But I didn’t make _you_ come,” Harry countered. He still had yet to let go of Ben’s arm, something Ben himself seemed to be considering with an equal measure of bemusement and annoyance.

“You’re such a brat,” Ben muttered, more to himself than to Harry it seemed. “I’m fine,” he reiterated.

“I could tell you were hard when you were taking care of me in the bathroom,” Harry bluffed. He hadn’t been able to tell much of anything really, but he’d been naked and in close proximity to Ben for several minutes, so it wasn’t hard to guess at the natural conclusion. “You should stop being so noble,” he added, giving Ben’s arm a pointed tug for good measure. “Just fuck me already.”

It was a foregone conclusion before the sigh even left Ben’s mouth. “I don’t have lube,” he replied, though they’d made do without in the past.

Luckily for them both, Harry had the foresight to stash some in his bag before they’d left. “Front pocket,” he told Ben, who didn’t do anything more than quirk an eyebrow in response before getting up and retrieving the lube from its aforementioned hiding place.

“Suppose I shouldn’t even be surprised,” Ben remarked to himself before turning around again. “How do you want it, then?”

Harry had to stifle a laugh at the brusqueness of his request. All business. Harry wriggled onto his side, so there would be no danger of irritating his freshly treated piercing in the process. “Little spoon,” he announced quite determinedly.

Ben let out a quiet laugh and then crawled onto the bed behind him. He slipped under the covers, tracing a gentle hand up the length of Harry’s body from knee to armpit. Harry wondered if it felt like a new body to him too, the way it sometimes did for Harry when he got new ink done or a haircut. In this case, he’d had both since the last time he and Ben had saw each other, and there was the earring now, too. All of them, small, but enough to change him in some distinct way.

Harry didn’t have a chance to ask him, though, because before he could even open his mouth, there was a finger in his arse, and then shortly after that, another. He didn’t do more than lie there like a dead fish while Ben prepped him from behind, but it didn’t seem to matter to Ben’s cock, which Harry could feel hot and hard against his lower back as Ben opened him up.

Ben didn’t waste much time with prep, which Harry was grateful for as soon as he felt the firm press of his cock pushing inside him, making space where it felt like there was none. It _had_ been a while. Not just with Ben, but with anyone at all.

“Okay?” Ben asked.

Harry nodded and then gasped out loud as Ben hitched a hand under his knee, pulling it to his chest to get a better angle as he sawed him open. Harry closed his eyes again. The slow thrusts felt like they were going so deep it was hard to breathe, and for a few minutes, that was all Harry could even focus on, the pleasure a distant afterthought at the moment.

One of the nice things about sleeping with Ben was the fact that Harry didn’t have to focus when they fucked. He got to be lazy, because Ben already knew exactly how to make him come without much effort on Harry’s part at all.

And Harry was close already. He was pretty sure he could manage to come untouched if Ben just kept—

The door opened and everything stopped. Harry and Ben both froze in place as Cara and Kendall came stumbling into the room, loudly giggling about something Harry couldn’t quite make out over the blood rush echoing loudly against his eardrums.

“H,” Cara whined as she flopped down next to Harry on the edge of the bed, “where’d you hide all the champagne?”

It took Harry several long seconds to come up with the words for a coherent answer. “In, um, the basement,” he said slowly. “Next to the wine rack.” He could feel Ben’s grip on his hip tightening, but he couldn’t tell if the gesture was meant to be communicative or just a reaction to the tense situation. Intentional and accidental voyeurism were two very different beasts.

Cara started to get up with Kendall’s help and then paused, her narrowed eyes sweeping over Harry’s shrouded form with a confused expression. “Ben?” she asked.

Ben lifted his head a bit to acknowledge her now that he’d been caught out. “Hi.”

Cara’s face twisted into a wounded frown. “Rude of you to have a cuddle pile and not invite us,” she said, pulling Kendall in as she bounced back into the bed.

It only took her a few seconds from there to figure out that Harry was naked when she crawled under the sheets next to him, and even less time to connect the dots as to what Ben was doing there. Cara lifted the sheets and made a face as she peered at where they were connected, though it was unlikely that she could make much out in the dark.

“Well, don’t stop on our account,” Cara told them, oblivious to the blush slowly spreading across Kendall’s face as she watched from behind.

“I’m not a science experiment,” Harry replied flatly as he waited for Cara to finish her investigation of his and Ben’s bedroom activities.

“A science experiment would be far less interesting,” Cara retorted. She kissed him square on the mouth as if to prevent any further argument. “Be a good boy,” she added as she pulled away again.

Ben still seemed hesitant to continue with Cara and Kendall both looking on. Harry supposed it was different than having Meri in the room with them. “H?” he asked, as though requesting permission to keep going.

Harry paused before replying. “I was close before you stopped,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah?” Ben asked, already pushing into him again with a slow, testing thrust. “Thought the whole point was you making me come, not the other way around.” He punctuated his statement with a hard squeeze against Harry’s hip as he fucked into him roughly.

Harry was instantly overwhelmed, already unable to reply. He curled his fingers into the pillow and held on for dear life as Ben pounded into him while the others watched. Cara already had a hand down the front of her boxer shorts, but Kendall was more reserved, just peering over Cara’s shoulder as she clung to her from behind.

Harry was pretty sure that Ben’s fingers were going to leave a nasty bruise, but he didn’t much care about that. The bedroom door was still open, too, but Harry didn’t care about that either, at least, not until he noticed yet another figure go strolling by before doubling back to poke their head into the room, probably drawn in by the noises pouring steadily out of Harry’s throat.

It was Jeff. He opened the door just a little wider, and Harry wasn’t so loud that he couldn’t hear the, “What’s—oh!” of realisation as Jeff put together the pieces of what was happening right in front of him.

“Don’t stop,” Harry gasped, wrapping a hand around Ben’s wrist in warning. He wasn’t sure if Ben could even hear him, but it didn’t matter.

Ben was fucking him so hard now that Harry couldn’t keep track of anything that was happening around him. He knew Ben was probably close, but so was he. It wouldn’t take much longer. Harry was fully enveloped in that dreamy pre-orgasm haze where nothing seemed particularly real aside from the warmth coiling tight inside his tummy.

There was a sharp flash of sensation at the nape of Harry’s neck. Everything felt elevated; it was impossible to say whether the feeling was pleasure or pain in the moment, but it was enough to nudge Harry off the precipice he’d been dancing around since before Cara and Kendall had burst in on them.

Harry felt like he was coming for ages, as if he’d been in the throes of orgasm for days before he finally brought a hand down to work himself through the aftershocks. He could tell now that the pressure against his spine was Ben’s mouth, and that the warmth he could feel inside himself was Ben’s come.

Harry could hardly breathe by the time he came back to himself, but that didn’t seem to matter much to Cara, who patted him on the head like a dog as soon as he went limp. “Good job,” she said. “That was hot.”

“You got off that fast?” Ben said incredulously as she and Kendall crawled out of the bed.

“Nah,” Cara replied, “but it’s something to wank off to later. Hmm. Suppose we better find that champagne now that everyone’s awake.”

They left without another word, abandoning Harry and Ben to their mutual silence. “Where did Jeff go?” Harry finally asked a few minutes later.

“Don’t know,” Ben told him. “He ran off pretty quick after he realised what we were up to.”

Harry sighed into the pillow and scooted back a bit so that he and Ben stayed connected even though Ben’s cock had mostly gone soft already. “I should make it up to him later,” he mused. “I ignored him practically all night and you know how he gets.”

Ben snorted against Harry’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t call putting him in a chokehold with your thighs ‘ignoring’,” he countered.

“Well, to be fair, I was only doing that because of you.”

“Me?” Ben replied, sounding confused.

Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised he hadn’t caught on to what was happening. “You might not have noticed it, but Jeff can always tell when I’m messing about with him for attention. He’ll be feeling a bit jealous, I expect.”

Ben sighed. “Jeff always hogs you when you’re in LA,” he complained as he wound his arm more securely around Harry’s waist, like he was afraid he might jump out of bed right then to go console Jeff. “He’s not allowed to have a strop when it’s finally my turn.”

“Excuse you,” Harry said, turning slightly to give Ben a look of faux-offense. “Jeff doesn’t _hog_ me.”

“Yes, he does.” Ben swiped the flat of his tongue under Harry’s jaw and then gave him a light nip in the same place. “But you were my toy to play with first, remember?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “One would have thought you’d have learned to share by now, then.”

Ben squeezed him a bit tighter. “Never.”


End file.
